Round 13 - Curborough, Sunday 3rd July
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Recently, when it comes to sprinting, I seem to have more time to myself and so I have decided that if an event is more than 90 minutes’ journey time away, I shall use the opportunity to stay over and visit as much of the local scenery as possible. Sometimes I have now seen more of the local scenery than I had originally planned to (as have some of my fellow competitors), but more of that later.
And so it was that I ventured to Curborough. What can I find there to entertain me for a day before the racing? After a little bit of research, it seems that Burton-on-Trent is the beer capital of the area and could provide hours of entertainment with the Beer Museum and several brewery tours. Having suffered with a couple of beers too many prior to Epynt (the 3rd and 4th beers definitely work out at a second per lap each) I thought that perhaps I should look for something a little more abstemious and to my great pleasure discovered that The National Memorial Arboretum is sited just a stone’s throw from the race track. Perfect. |
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Now some amongst you will know that in a previous life (do I mention this often?) I was an extremely brave defender of the Realm, flying the “Mighty F4 Phantom” on Air Defence duties. This was during the cold war when it was really, really dangerous. One was constantly in fear of spilling one’s hot coffee down one’s lap when being scrambled to intercept a Russian Tupolev “Bear”. And this could happen at least once a month. Or quarter.
I started flying in 1981 and got as far as 1983 before one of my buddies decided to implant his Hawk trainer (aircraft, not shoe) into the Isle of Man. Bits of it are probably still there, but his name is now engraved in stone at the National Memorial. As are the names of more than a dozen of my mates, some of whom I’d forgotten had come to such an untimely end. All of them crashed by flying into things, like other aeroplanes, bits of ground that were too close to them when they lost control, or just bits of ground that were in the way. Only poor old (young) Tony succumbed to the dreaded mechanical failure, when the front gearbox on his Chinook seized overhead Mount Pleasant in the Falklands. There was only one way that was going to go from 1000 feet. Yup, he hit that annoying ground thing again.
I started flying in 1981 and got as far as 1983 before one of my buddies decided to implant his Hawk trainer (aircraft, not shoe) into the Isle of Man. Bits of it are probably still there, but his name is now engraved in stone at the National Memorial. As are the names of more than a dozen of my mates, some of whom I’d forgotten had come to such an untimely end. All of them crashed by flying into things, like other aeroplanes, bits of ground that were too close to them when they lost control, or just bits of ground that were in the way. Only poor old (young) Tony succumbed to the dreaded mechanical failure, when the front gearbox on his Chinook seized overhead Mount Pleasant in the Falklands. There was only one way that was going to go from 1000 feet. Yup, he hit that annoying ground thing again.
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Anyway, I digress; the point is, I had a lovely day walking around The National Memorial Arboretum. Whilst a lot is military themed, there is plenty to see and reflect upon for all, such as the Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity Memorial and the delightful Edward’s Trust Garden.
Which brings me on to what great cars TVRs are. There can’t be many makes of car where one can combine a little bit of touring, a little bit of racing and be back in time for tea and medals. As I said, seeing the local scenery is now an added bonus to a racing weekend and on his first practice, Jes decided that he would like to visit the scenery located around the first corner. He had a thorough look around with a full 360 tour. He even took some nice video. Feeling left out, I thought I would like to enjoy exactly the same tour on my second practice run. 3-Nuts decided this scenery visiting thing was something to embrace and duly did so at the “Molehill”, the tricky left right flick before the never-ending hairpin that leads on to the main straight. |
Not wanting to miss out, Rob tried went sightseeing at the end of the main straight, after realising too late that 48mph is too fast through the braking zone to successfully make the return hairpin.
Moggy, Moakesy, Simon, Micro, Peter and Shelagh decided that just the drive to the circuit was quite enough sightseeing for one day and boringly decided that they would prefer to concentrate on the racing. Jes was really entering into the spirit of things though, and on his second practice run decided he would check out the surroundings at the other end of the circuit. He reported back that it was in fact mainly grass. Most of which spent the rest of the day sitting in his front intake.
Moggy, Moakesy, Simon, Micro, Peter and Shelagh decided that just the drive to the circuit was quite enough sightseeing for one day and boringly decided that they would prefer to concentrate on the racing. Jes was really entering into the spirit of things though, and on his second practice run decided he would check out the surroundings at the other end of the circuit. He reported back that it was in fact mainly grass. Most of which spent the rest of the day sitting in his front intake.
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Photos: Steve Morrison on-track.co.uk
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Photos: Steve Udall
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So lunchtime produced the following order of Micro, Moggy, Chaos, Packmeister, 3-Nuts, Sismith, Moaksy and the Ashes with Peter ahead of Shelagh. Jes was yet to record a time and was busy cashing in his grass-miles for further excursions, unplanned or otherwise.
The afternoon temptingly offered further tours, except that “Wanderlust Jes” had been replaced with “Stiglike Jes” and he went from last to first in one fell swoop. He did buy us all an ice cream beforehand though and I lay some blame to that. I notice that he had a pre-wrapped lolly whilst the rest of us had the Mr Whippy type stuff. I think the e-numbers might have caught us all out whilst he was reinvigorated by the pureness of his untainted frozen juice.
The afternoon temptingly offered further tours, except that “Wanderlust Jes” had been replaced with “Stiglike Jes” and he went from last to first in one fell swoop. He did buy us all an ice cream beforehand though and I lay some blame to that. I notice that he had a pre-wrapped lolly whilst the rest of us had the Mr Whippy type stuff. I think the e-numbers might have caught us all out whilst he was reinvigorated by the pureness of his untainted frozen juice.
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With the final runs completed, the results were as practice really with the big winner being Jes (literally), and the biggest loser (not literally) being Micro who slipped to 4th, but still 1st in class A.
Some had varying excuses as to their performances. The Packmeister’s was by far the best however, and now sits at number 45 in the “Book of Racing Driver Excuses”, and I quote; “I was getting stomach cramps around the top hairpin”. It was decided collectively that Rob should go and get himself dry-sumped.
3-Nuts claimed he had been suffering all day from a severe case of “Griff-foot”. He even went so far as to putting on a fake limp. Micro suggested it might have been caused by Pete dropping his wallet on his foot, but it seems it is actually similar to trench-foot although in Pete’s case, brought on by sitting in a Griff for too long as opposed to spending days standing in a sodden trench awaiting almost certain death. Which reminds me, there was an excellent World War One exhibition at the National Memorial.
Some had varying excuses as to their performances. The Packmeister’s was by far the best however, and now sits at number 45 in the “Book of Racing Driver Excuses”, and I quote; “I was getting stomach cramps around the top hairpin”. It was decided collectively that Rob should go and get himself dry-sumped.
3-Nuts claimed he had been suffering all day from a severe case of “Griff-foot”. He even went so far as to putting on a fake limp. Micro suggested it might have been caused by Pete dropping his wallet on his foot, but it seems it is actually similar to trench-foot although in Pete’s case, brought on by sitting in a Griff for too long as opposed to spending days standing in a sodden trench awaiting almost certain death. Which reminds me, there was an excellent World War One exhibition at the National Memorial.
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So go on, do some touring, visit the scenery AND stick some numbers on it!
And then maybe visit some more scenery…… Chaos (Pictures: Paul Moakes) |
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